


By Souls of Sanity

by sahiya



Series: Febuwhump 2021 [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Caretaking, Exhaustion, FebuWhump2021, Gen, Headaches & Migraines, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Protective Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Sleep Deprivation, The Stark Lake House, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, do not copy to another site
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-19
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-16 02:56:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,462
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29569254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sahiya/pseuds/sahiya
Summary: Tony lets himself get worn down taking care of an injured Peter on his own. It catches up to him in the worst way.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Febuwhump 2021 [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142057
Comments: 24
Kudos: 209
Collections: febuwhump 2021





	By Souls of Sanity

**Author's Note:**

> Here we have "sleep deprivation" for day 19 of Febuwhump! 
> 
> Title is from "Sleep is supposed to be" by Emily Dickinson. 
> 
> _Sleep is supposed to be,_  
>  _By souls of sanity,_  
>  _The shutting of the eye._

The house was quiet just before dawn. Tony sat on the sofa, staring out the big picture windows down to the lake. The house smelled like the coffee that was brewing in the kitchen. In less than an hour, Pepper would be up. He thought about going upstairs and getting into bed with her, even just for a little while, but he was too tired to move.

May had tried to warn him. She had tried to convince him they should keep Peter at the compound another week or so, until he was more mobile and no longer taking such a high dosage of his painkillers –– or at the very least until she could get coverage at work and come help out. But Tony had insisted, because he knew just how much Peter hated being in the hospital. 

Tony was loath to admit it, but May might’ve been right. This was the second night in a row that he’d spent sitting up with Peter because they couldn’t get his pain under control. It was actually the broken clavicle that had given him trouble tonight; he couldn’t find a position that didn’t hurt. He’d also been a little feverish –– nothing to worry about, Bruce had told Tony when he’d texted him, but enough to be uncomfortable. 

It was three in the morning by the time Peter had fallen asleep. Tony had tried to sleep then, too, sitting up on the bed beside him, but he couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways he was going to exact revenge on Norman Osborne once he got his hands on him. Or how useless he’d been in the seven hours Osborn had had his kid. He’d had to trust Sam and Barnes to get him out, and he’d hated it. _Hated_ it. 

It was five-thirty now. Tony thought he’d gotten maybe half an hour of sleep. But Peter was resting comfortably, and that was what mattered. That was all that mattered. 

Footsteps on the stairs roused him into sitting up straight. Pepper padded down in her bathrobe, pausing at the bottom of the stairs. “Oh honey. Were you up all night? Again?”

“Peter couldn’t get comfortable, and then I couldn’t sleep.” Tony dragged himself off the sofa and into the kitchen. 

The coffee had finished brewing. Pepper poured herself a cup, frowning. “I should cancel the trip.”

Tony shook his head. “No, you shouldn’t.”

Pepper’s mouth thinned. “I’m not comfortable leaving you here without back-up. We should have a nurse from the compound come out at night at least ––”

“No,” Tony said sharply, as he poured his own coffee. “You’re dropping Morgan at your sister’s house, I can take care of Peter. I don’t need a nurse to come out.”

“Tony...”

“I mean it.”

Pepper studied him for a few seconds before giving a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh. “I know you do, though I’m not sure why. We had nurses and therapists and God knows who else coming for ages after you were discharged. You know as well as I do that some things are best done by someone who isn’t a close family member.”

Tony shifted uncomfortably. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure why he was so determined not to have help. It might have just been what Rhodey called his “mama bear” instincts kicking in. He trusted the staff at the compound, but he couldn’t help but feel, now that they were mostly just waiting the healing process out, that the best place for Peter was in his own bed, being taken care of by his family. 

“May’s coming up in three days,” Tony finally said. 

Pepper didn’t look happy, but she nodded. “And in the meantime, you’ll call Bruce for help if you need it?”

“I did last night,” Tony said. “Kid was running a little bit of a fever.”

“That’s not what I asked. I know you’ll call Bruce if Peter needs help. I’m more worried about whether you’ll call him if _you_ need it.”

Tony frowned. “I’m fine. And Bruce is on a plane to Wakanda right now. He’s had a research trip planned for ages.”

Pepper lifted an eyebrow at him. “Then you’ll call Helen?”

“Helen had to head back to Seoul yesterday.”

Pepper’s frown deepened. “That’s bad timing.”

“She has a life there,” Tony said. “And Peter is out of the woods. It seemed fine for both of them to leave. I can text them, and if there’s a real emergency, we’ll have a nurse come out. Or Sam.”

Pepper shook her head. “I don’t like this. I thought Bruce and Helen would be available if you needed them. I wouldn’t have agreed to go on this trip if I’d known they were both leaving.”

“You know, I’m a lot more capable than you make me out to be,” Tony said, a little peevishly. “I can take care of my own kid for three days.”

“You’re very capable,” Pepper said, clearly refusing to rise to the bait. “But Peter’s pretty badly injured, and I don’t like the idea of you being on your own. Just... promise me you’ll ask for help if you need it?”

Tony fought the urge to roll his eyes. “I promise.”

“Thank you.” Pepper kissed him. “I’m going to go get Morgan up, if you don’t mind feeding her breakfast?”

“Of course.” Tony let go of her, and she headed up the stairs. Tony pulled out a bag of English muffins and popped one in the toaster. He leaned against the counter and took a long sip of coffee. 

Two nights without sleep used to be nothing to him, he thought ruefully. It’d been par for the course in his twenties and thirties, even into his forties. He’d pulled the night shift a lot when Morgan was young; he hadn’t slept well for years after the first snap, and Pepper had had the company to run. But these days, he was averaging seven or eight hours a night, and it seemed he’d gone soft. 

He was just going to have to deal with it, he told himself firmly. Maybe he could sneak in a nap at some point today while Peter was asleep. 

He managed not to burn anything fixing Morgan’s breakfast. He caved and let her have Nutella on half of her English muffin, but she did eat the low-sugar organic apricot jam that Pepper bought on the other, so all in all, Tony decided to call it a win. 

They had managed to get all of the luggage down the stairs and into the living room and were just waiting on Pepper’s driver, when Tony heard Peter’s door open down the hall. It was followed quickly by the distinctive _shuffle-shuffle-thump_ of Peter’s walker. 

“What the –– kid, what the hell are you doing up?” Tony demanded, maybe just a little more harshly than was warranted. “You’re not supposed to get out of bed without help.”

“I’m fine,” Peter said, though the smile on his face was strained. “I couldn’t let Mo and Pepper leave without saying good-bye. Right, mongoose?”

“Right!” Morgan dropped her backpack and ran over to throw her arms around him. Tony tensed, but at the last moment, Morgan slowed down and hugged Peter very carefully around the waist. Tony relaxed. 

“You have fun at your aunt’s house, all right?” Peter said. “Try not to grow too much while you’re there.”

Morgan pressed her face into Peter’s stomach. “I don’t wanna go,” she mumbled. 

Peter didn’t even miss a beat. “Yeah, you do,” he told her. “Your dad and I are going to be super boring. Your aunt’s going to take you to the zoo and to the ocean and probably buy you all kinds of things you’re not supposed to have. You’re going to have lots of fun, and we can talk every day if you want.”

Morgan nodded. Tony watched Peter start to bend over and kiss the top of her head, only to be brought up short with a grimace. He ruffled her hair instead. “Love you, mongoose.”

“Love you, too,” she said, sounding a little teary. She sniffled. 

“Do I get a hug, too?” Tony asked. “Or am I just chopped liver next to Peter?”

Morgan gave a very small giggle and darted over to throw herself into Tony’s arms. Tony picked her up, ignoring the soreness in his prosthetic site. It was a little tender today for some reason. “I’m going to take good care of Peter,” he whispered to her. “I promise. Trust me?”

She nodded. “Love you three thousand.”

“Love _you_ three thousand,” he said, and kissed her on the forehead. 

Pepper’s driver arrived soon after, and then there was a last minute dash to make sure that Morgan’s favorite stuffed rabbit made it into the car with her. Peter stayed inside while Tony walked out with Pepper and Morgan. He strapped Morgan into her booster seat, gave her one last hug and kiss, and then kissed Pepper good-bye. 

“Floor it before she decides she really wants to stay,” Tony muttered to her. 

“Call for help if you need it,” she replied, arching an eyebrow at him knowingly.

And then they were gone. Tony let his shoulders slump, rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

It was the right thing to do. Pepper had to make this trip, and it would have been hard to take care of both Peter and Morgan while Peter could barely get around on his own. But Tony suddenly felt very alone, and very tired, and it would be three days before any relief arrived. 

He could do this. He _had_ to do it. 

Inside, Peter had managed to shuffle over the sofa and sit down. “You’re supposed to be resting,” Tony observed as he came in. 

“I can rest on the sofa.”

“You need to put your legs up,” Tony replied. He went into the kitchen to get Peter’s morning medication. “It’s a lot easier to do that in your bed.”

“I can use the ottoman, can’t I?” Peter replied, a faint hint of whine in his voice. “I’m just so tired of being in that room. I’m so tired of being _in bed_.”

Tony knew the feeling. “All right,” he conceded, deciding he was too tired to argue. “What do you want for breakfast? You should eat something with your medication.”

“I don’t care, I’m not that hungry.”

Tony frowned. “Is your stomach bothering you?”

“A little. I think I’m just tired.”

“Yeah,” Tony said. He popped two more English muffins into the toaster. Toast and butter couldn’t go too wrong. He topped off his coffee and put the kettle on to boil some water for tea. 

While he waited for the kettle and the toaster, Tony went into the living room and helped Peter put his legs up. He had a broken hip bone socket on one side and a shattered femur on the other. A regular person wouldn’t have walked again for months. Peter had spent two weeks in traction while they healed, and there was still an uphill climb ahead of him. Peter didn’t complain –– much –– but Tony could tell from the way he gritted his teeth that it hurt. 

“You need to be careful,” Tony said quietly, as he added another pillow under Peter’s knees. “If you reinjure yourself, it could set you back weeks.”

“I know, I just...” Peter sucked in a sharp breath, wincing as Tony adjusted his leg. “I wanted to say bye to Mo. I feel bad about her having to leave just because I’m such a mess.”

“Morgan is fine,” Tony told him firmly. “She adores her aunt, and she doesn’t get to see her that often. This isn’t a hardship for everyone. Capice?”

Peter shrugged. The kettle whistled, and Tony got up to make his tea and butter the English muffins. 

“Ned wants to video chat today,” Peter said when Tony came back with their breakfast and Peter’s medication on a tray. Tony handed him a plate; Peter looked at it unenthusiastically, then took a determined bite. 

“Oh?” Tony said, as neutrally as possible. Peter had been really reluctant to see any of his friends so far. 

“Yeah. He and MJ both want to... see me, I guess.”

“Mmm,” Tony said around a bite of his English muffin. He swallowed. “Is there a reason you haven’t yet?”

Peter shrugged. “I just... I kind of don’t want them to see me like this.”

“Like how?”

“I dunno. Laid up. In pain.” Peter was silent for a little while, picking at the edges of his food. “Weak.”

“Ah.” Tony reached for his coffee. “Yeah. That can be hard. But think about it, Pete. You’ve got some experience on the other side of this. How would you have felt if I hadn’t wanted to see you while I was recovering?”

Peter looked horrified. “That would’ve been awful. I mean, I didn’t like seeing you in pain, but the only thing that helped me was helping you. If I hadn’t been able to help you, I think I would’ve gone nuts.”

“So I wouldn’t have been doing you any kind of favor by making you stay away until I was back on my feet?”

“ _No_ ,” Peter said emphatically, and then grimaced. “All right. Point made. I guess... maybe I’ll see if they want to video chat later.”

“I don’t want you to do anything you’re not ready for,” Tony said. “But it’s taken me most of my life to realize that it’s better to let people be there than not –– better for you, but also better for the people who love you.”

Peter nodded, looking down at his plate. He looked exhausted. Tony could sympathize. 

“Take your painkillers,” Tony said. “We can wait and see how it all settles before you eat the rest.”

“Thanks.” Peter swallowed his pill. Tony took the plate and set it on the coffee table.

“ _Great British Bake-off_ or _Orville_?” Tony asked. 

“ _Bake-off_ ,” Peter mumbled, sinking back into the sofa. FRIDAY turned on the TV, and Tony grabbed the throw off the back of the sofa to spread over Peter. He shifted closer, throwing his arm across the back of the sofa. Peter leaned against him, already yawning. 

“Pills kicking in?” Tony asked, as the opening credits rolled on the TV. 

“Yeah.” Peter snuggled closer, clingy in the way he got when he was a little high. “They work fast. Gonna fall asleep.”

“Me, too, probably,” Tony admitted. 

“Mmm. Did you sleep at all last night?”

“Some.”

Peter opened one eye and squinted at him. “You’re lying.”

Tony shook his head. “I’m okay, kid. Don’t worry about me.”

“I always worry about you,” Peter replied sleepily, closing his eyes again. “Can’t help it.”

Tony felt briefly overwhelmed by a swell of love and gratitude for his kid. He kissed the top of his head, then rested his cheek on the top of Peter’s head. His eyes slipped closed. He might have fallen asleep before Peter did. 

He knew within seconds upon waking that he had a problem. Even before the pain registered, it was obvious from the blurry vision –– not blurry, but obscured by a thrice-damned half-crescent of pulsing void. 

Tony had known he was playing with fire, getting almost no sleep two nights in a row. Sleep deprivation was just about the worst migraine trigger he had these days. He’d been careful not to drink anything the night before, even when Pepper opened a bottle of wine for herself. But that didn’t matter. 

“Tony? Tony, I –– I’m sorry, please wake up.”

“Kid?” Tony managed, wincing. His neck was killing him and there was a dull, queasy throbbing in his temples. 

“I think we slept through my next dose. It –– it really hurts.”

Tony swore. “Yeah,” he said, staggering to his feet. “Yeah, hang on.”

It was past time for Peter’s next dose. He needed more frequent doses during the day, in order to keep up with his metabolism while not making him too woozy. Tony managed to get the cap off, despite numbness in his hands, and shook out two pills into his palm. That was right, wasn’t it? He squinted at the label but he was barely able to read it. 

_One_ , it said, very clearly. One pill, six times a day, two at night. Tony put one of the pills back into the bottle. 

“Sorry, Pete,” he said, handing him the pill. Peter swallowed it with a gulp of his cold tea, and Tony immediately kicked himself for not getting him a glass of water. 

“S’okay,” Peter said, taking a deep breath. “Holy forking shirtballs, that hurts.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “FRIDAY, let’s not let this happen again, all right? Wake me up when it’s time for Peter’s medication, no matter what.”

“You got it, boss,” she replied. 

“Okay, it’s working,” Peter said, as Tony sat down on the sofa next to him. “It’s working.” He relaxed gradually, leaning his head back against the sofa. 

“One to ten,” Tony prompted. 

“Like... a six now. Down from a nine.” Peter melted fully into the sofa, like all his bones had suddenly gone liquid. “A six I can handle. I eat sixes for breakfast. The nine was... a lot.” He breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Sorry. That was my fault.” 

“No, it wasn’t,” Peter replied. “We both fell asleep.”

“I know, but this is my job. I screwed up.” Tony rubbed a hand across his face. The pulsing black crescent void was still there. It’d moved around a little, widened to obscure more of his vision. Half his left hand was tingling and numb.

“Are you okay?” Peter asked. “You look kind of pale.”

“I’m fine.” 

“You don’t look fine.”

“Thanks, kid,” Tony snapped. 

“Okay, okay,” Peter said, shrinking back a little. “Sorry.”

“No.” Tony shook his head. “No, don’t. I shouldn't have snapped. I just...” He hesitated. “I’m just tired,” he finally said, not wanting to admit to the migraine. It was going to get worse before it got better, but maybe Peter didn’t have to know. If he knew, he would fuss, and that was the last thing Tony wanted. 

He was the parent. He couldn’t protect Peter physically anymore; he’d been stuck on the sidelines for this last debacle and it had rankled something fierce. But he could do this. And he wasn’t going to let a migraine stand in his way. 

“Maybe you were right about lying down in a bed,” Peter said after a moment. “I’m not sure sitting up like this is doing my hip any good. Could you help me with the walker?”

“Sure,” Tony said. He unfolded it from its spot by the sofa but fumbled trying to lock it into position. He finally got it locked and positioned in front of Peter, then helped him stand. He leaned heavily on the walker and started shuffling out of the living room. Tony tried not to hover. It was better for Peter to get around under his own steam, Bruce had said. 

The throbbing in his head was starting to take on a queasy quality. Tony didn’t usually throw up with his migraines, but sometimes he got so nauseous he wished he would. Hopefully this wasn’t going to be one of those. Peter was going to need lunch in a couple of hours. 

Peter was quiet as they shuffled down the hallway. “So, don’t snap my head off,” he finally said, as Tony was helping him into bed. “But are you sure you’re okay?”

The kid was too smart by half. “Don’t worry about me,” Tony said. “Want me to stay or go?”

Peter eyed him. Tony did his best to look alert and with it and not as though he felt like his head was about to explode. “Stay,” he finally said. “If that’s okay.”

“Yeah, of course. Give me just a second, okay?”

Tony left the room, pulling the door shut behind him. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered, letting his shoulders slump. 

“Boss, Ms. Potts is calling,” FRIDAY said.

“Already?” Tony muttered. His migraine medication was upstairs, so that was where he headed. “Tell her... shit, tell her I can’t talk right now.”

FRIDAY’s silence was somehow dubious and disapproving, but Tony knew she’d do what he asked. He pulled wearily at his temples, as though that was going to provide anything but the most temporary relief, and climbed the stairs. 

***

Tony must have thought he was stupid, Peter thought. 

Not _really_ , of course. But he must have thought that Peter’s brain was so addled from painkillers or sleep deprivation that he wouldn’t notice that something was off about Tony. And since Peter had kept Tony up the last two nights because he was too uncomfortable to sleep, he had a pretty good idea of what it was. 

Of all the lingering effects of the snap, the migraines might’ve been the one Tony hated the most. The one he was most likely to pretend wasn’t bothering him, the one he was most likely to try and push himself through, even though he knew better. Peter had gotten good at learning how to spot the signs, because Tony was apt to lie about it like he was... well, like he was Spiderman with a small stab wound he’d rather not talk about. 

It sucked, though, because Peter was down to one working limb. He’d gotten pretty good at taking care of Tony, even when Tony didn’t want to be taken care of. Pepper had told him that that was his _real_ superpower: Tony could be snapping at everyone, clearly in pain and in denial about it, but at one look from Peter he’d take his pills and go lie down. He even let Peter bring him cold towels and the peppermint salve that sometimes helped. 

The salve was upstairs, out of Peter’s reach. Even getting a cold towel from the bathroom was a challenge with the walker. So he guessed he was going to have to convince Tony to take care of himself. 

_That_ was going to be a challenge. Tony was worse about taking care of himself than Peter was, and Peter was pretty bad at it. 

Peter flipped through podcasts on his phone while he waited for Tony to come back. Usually they’d watch TV, but that was going to bother Tony’s head, even though he’d never admit it. 

“What’s on tap, kid?” Tony asked when he returned. “ _Star Wars_? _Orville_? Or, uh...” Tony paused. Peter could _see_ him searching for the title, trying to fight through the migraine-induced aphasia. 

Peter took pity on him. “Actually, I thought we could listen to ‘How Did This Get Made.’ It’s this bad movie podcast Ned and MJ and I like.”

“Do we have to watch the movie they’re talking about?” Tony asked, sitting down heavily on the edge of the bed.

“Nah, it’s funny either way,” Peter said, setting his phone on his bedside table. He yawned. The painkillers kind of flattened him, but he had to admit that sleeping through the healing process was probably the best thing for him.

“Sure, put it on,” Tony said, stretching out beside him, propped up against the headboard. Peter snuck a look up at him and caught Tony pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Peter put on an episode where they talked about one of the _Superman_ movies. Tony liked to complain about superhero movies whenever they watched one, so Peter figured he’d enjoy listening to other people do it for him. 

He shifted around, trying to get comfortable. His collarbone was no longer aching fiercely like it had been the night before, but his hip was kind of killing him. Not to mention, he really missed being able to sleep on his side. 

“You okay, kiddo?” Tony asked. “Need anything?”

“I’m fine. The painkillers will kick in and I’ll fall asleep,” Peter replied, gritting his teeth. 

That ended up being _kind of_ true. Peter didn’t fall asleep right away, but he drifted off, letting the podcast lull him into a light doze. The pain was still there, a persistent ache in his hip, but he didn’t care as much. After a couple of minutes, Peter felt Tony’s hand come to rest on his hair, sifting gently through Peter’s curls. Within thirty seconds, he was asleep. 

Tony wasn’t there when Peter woke. It was mid-afternoon, judging by the shadows on the ceiling. Peter’s phone was silent, the podcast having ended. Or maybe Tony had turned it off.

It took him a moment to realize that FRIDAY had woken him by buzzing against his wrist. “What’s up, FRI?” Peter asked around a yawn.

“You are due for a painkiller soon, Peter,” FRIDAY said. “I let Mr. Stark know, too, but he may not be in a position to help you.”

“Yeah,” Peter mumbled blearily. His pills were right on the bedside table, so that wasn’t a problem, anyway. But he needed to make sure Tony was all right first. “He’s got a migraine, FRI, right?”

“I am unable to confirm that hypothesis.” 

Peter sighed. “All right, so you can’t tell me –– but since I already know, can you just tell me how bad it is?”

“Boss hasn’t given me a number,” FRIDAY said, “but his vitals and his behavior are both consistent with that exhibited by him during a severe migraine in the past.”

“Dammit,” Peter said. “Where is he?”

“The downstairs powder room.”

“Great,” Peter muttered. Getting out of bed was easier said than done; standing was hard, but getting his legs over the side of the bed first might have been harder. But Peter had done it that morning to say good-bye to Morgan, and he could do it now. 

Once he was on his feet, Peter paused, riding out a wave of dizziness. Then he started the slow, tedious shuffle out of the bedroom and down the hall. 

The door to the powder room was cracked open. Peter used the walker to nudge the door further open, revealing Tony sitting on the floor, leaning against the bathtub. His head rested on a rolled up towel on the tub’s edge. “Tony?”

“Hey Pete,” Tony said, not bothering to lift his head or even open his eyes. “FRIDAY snitched?”

“No, I already knew you had a migraine.”

Tony’s lips twitched. “Thought I was... covering.”

Peter tried not to smile. “It was a valiant effort.”

“Too smart.” Tony covered his eyes with his hand. “Sorry, kid.”

“Remember what you always tell me? ‘No dumb apologies’? Well, the same rule applies here. _Capice_?”

“Capice,” Tony agreed. 

Peter leaned on his walker using his one good arm. “So, did you throw up?”

“No. Just felt like I might. And then I was just... couldn’t move.” Tony pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. “I feel so... slow.”

Peter thumbed the front legs of his walker on the ground. “Me too. But if you’re willing to be the limbs, I’ll be the brain.”

Tony laughed weakly. “Yeah. Deal.”

Peter’s legs were just about done with standing. “I need to go lie down again. Can you get up?”

“Yeah. Just a minute.”

Peter shuffled back down the hallway and into his room. He sat down, wincing, and glared at the bottle of pills on the bedside table. He knew the painkillers were going to make him loopy, but the pain was inching up from a four to a five, just while he sat there. If he didn’t take his pill now, he’d regret it. And Tony would be furious. 

He swallowed the pill. “FRIDAY, let me know when I’m ready for the next one.”

“I will. You also have a message from Ned Leeds.”

“Ah crap,” Peter sighed. He’d forgotten that he and Ned were supposed to talk that afternoon. “Can you text him back for me? Tell him that Tony’s got a migraine, so today isn’t great. But we’ll definitely talk tomorrow,” he added, thinking about what Tony had said to him earlier. He still didn’t love the idea of letting anyone but his family see him when he was like this, but Ned was his guy in the chair, and MJ was... well, whatever MJ was. 

“I will do that.” FRIDAY paused. Peter waited for the painkillers to kick in enough for him to be able to get his legs on the bed without help. “Mr. Leeds would like to know if he can help. He has offered to order you food.”

Peter had to smile. Ned was the best. “Tell him thanks, but I’ve got Tony’s credit card and the number of our local pizza place. We won’t starve. But I will definitely call him tomorrow.”

“Message conveyed,” FRIDAY said. 

“Thanks, FRI.”

“What message?” Tony asked as he came in. “You’re not texting Pep, are you?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “So what if I was?”

“Were you?”

“No, just Ned. Telling him that today isn’t the best for talking. Could you, um, help with my legs?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Tony helped Peter shift around and stretch his legs out. “It’s okay if you want to talk to Ned. It won’t bother me.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow. But he asked if he could order us some food or something, and I realized that I’m kind of hungry. I know that you’re probably not...”

Tony grimaced. He sat down on the other side of Peter’s bed and pulled at his temples. “No. But I can make you something. I’m sure there’s... canned soup. Or maybe a grilled cheese...” 

Tony was looking kind of ill just thinking about it. “Or I could order something,” Peter said. “Like maybe minestrone soup from Lo Duca’s?”

“That doesn’t sound awful,” Tony conceded. “But you need more than that.”

“I’ll order some other stuff, too.” Peter waited until Tony had laid down, arm over his eyes. “But, um. I was thinking. Maybe we should ask a nurse from the compound to come out. I know you don’t want to,” he added hastily. “But maybe it’s a good idea.”

“I’m okay,” Tony mumbled. “I can take care of us.”

“I know, but ––”

Tony removed his arm from across his eyes. “We’re fine here, Pete. Order the soup, all right? I’m going to shut my eyes. Wake me up when it gets here.”

“Okay,” Peter said. He pulled up the food delivery app on his phone and ordered several quarts of soup, enough to get them through a few days, plus pizza and some of their mac and cheese. May wouldn’t have approved the lack of vegetables, but Peter was in the mood for some serious comfort food. 

Tony’s breathing evened out as he fell asleep. The delivery was going to be at least an hour, so Peter settled in to wait. 

His painkiller kicked in, making things fuzzy around the edges. But instead of relaxing him, making him sleepy and slow, it seemed to have the exact opposite effect. Peter couldn’t help thinking about how isolated they were. It was twenty minutes to the nearest town, and forty-five minutes to the compound. He had always felt completely safe at the lake house, but suddenly he couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if Gobbie decided to try and finish the job. 

“You’re safe here,” he whispered, willing himself to believe it. “You’re safe here.”

“Peter, your heart rate is elevated,” FRIDAY said. “Do you want me to wake Mr. Stark?”

“No,” Peter said firmly. “No, I’m okay. Just... you’d know if someone besides us was on the property, right?”

“I have several methods for detecting intruders,” FRIDAY replied. “All is well, Peter.”

“Right,” Peter said, trying to believe it. “Right.”

The next hour weas miserable. Peter tried listening to soothing bedtime stories on his Calm app, tried doing his breathing exercises, tried naming things he could see and hear and feel and smell and taste. None of it really worked. 

It was a relief when the food arrived and Peter felt okay waking Tony up. Tony stumbled out of the room looking dazed, but he came back with two bowls of soup –– a big one for Peter and a much smaller one for himself –– and a loaf of crusty Italian bread on a plate. 

“There’s pizza, too,” he said, as he sat down on the bed. 

“This is okay for now,” Peter said, breaking off a piece of the bread to eat with his minestrone. “How are you doing?”

Tony chewed mechanically for a moment, staring off into the middle distance until Peter started to wonder if he’d heard him. “Less nauseous,” he finally said. “Head hurts more. Hand’s numb.”

“I’m sorry,” Peter said, putting his piece of bread down. “If I hadn’t kept you up last night, you wouldn’t have gotten a migraine today.”

Tony sighed, poking listlessly at his bowl with his spoon. “You don’t know that.”

“I kind of do.”

“Hey, what’d you tell me earlier?”

“No dumb apologies. But it’s _not_ –– okay, okay,” he added hastily, when Tony just looked tired. “I’ll stop. But you should stay upstairs tonight. I can take care of myself.” And he _could_ , it was just that he liked having Tony or May nearby when he was hurting. But Tony needed a full night’s rest, and Peter was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen if he stayed downstairs. Never mind that the thought of being by himself down here made Peter’s palms sweat. 

After dinner, Tony took the dishes away and came back with tea for them both. They were settling in to listen to another podcast episode when Pepper called. Tony tried to send her to voicemail, but Peter got there first. 

“Hi, you two,” she greeted them. 

“Hi, Pepper,” Peter said. “How’s California?”

“A bit dreary, unfortunately,” she said, “but it’s supposed to clear up tomorrow. I’m going to be stuck inside all day at meetings, but I know my sister has lots of outdoors activities planned for her and Morgan. How are you doing?”

“Fine,” Tony said, before Peter could respond. 

“Mmm.” Pepper frowned at him. “Your eyes look strange. Do you have a migraine?”

“How the hell did you –– Christ, that’s annoying,” Tony grumbled. 

“Is that why you ignored my call earlier?”

“Maybe.”

Pepper’s frown deepened. “Did you call Bruce?”

“No.”

“You should call Bruce.”

“Bruce is in... um.”

“Wakanda,” Peter supplied. 

“Yeah. And I’m fine. _We’re_ fine. Right, Peter?”

Peter wasn’t sure that that was exactly how he would have described things. “I think we’re okay for now,” he hedged. 

Pepper still looked skeptical, but there wasn’t that much she could do from three thousand miles away. After a couple of minutes, she had to go get Morgan ready to go to her sister’s house for dinner, and they disconnected. Tony dropped his phone on the bed and leaned back, placing his arm over his eyes again. 

“Maybe Pepper is right,” Peter tried again. “I know Dr. Banner and Dr. Cho aren’t available, but maybe Rhodey could come out for a couple of days? I could even see if May can come early.” She’d have to get someone to cover her shift, which was always tough at the last minute, but it was possible. 

“Rhodey’s in DC and he’s got meetings for the next three days. Tell you what,” Tony said, pushing himself up. “If I still have a migraine in the morning, I’ll call the compound and have them send someone. But I think all I need is a good night’s sleep.”

Peter managed a weak smile and a nod. “Yeah, that seems fair.”

They settled back down to listen to another podcast. Tony was quiet, but the pain lines around his eyes and at the corners of his mouth were deeper than usual. Peter leaned against him subtly, remembering all those days spent in hospital rooms as Tony recovered. He’d said that having Peter and Morgan with him was the best possible medicine, and so Peter had stayed with him as much as possible. They’d watched a lot of movies together just like this, sometimes with Morgan cuddled up on Tony’s other side. 

He wished Morgan was here now. Even more, he wished May and Pepper were here. 

Tony was clearly running on autopilot as he helped Peter get ready for bed. Peter could tell by his monosyllabic responses that the headache hadn’t gotten any better; if anything, it seemed like it was worse. Peter made him take two Imitrex when he brought Peter his pills with a glass of water. 

“You sure you’re okay here?” Tony asked. He was swaying slightly, like his balance was off.

Peter was not at all sure, but he wasn’t about to say so. “Yeah. I’m okay.”

“Okay. Sleep tight, kid.” Tony left, shutting Peter’s door quietly behind him. Peter took a deep breath, trying to calm his suddenly racing heart. He was fine, he told himself. He was safe. He didn’t need Tony within arm’s reach at all times.

Peter was almost as tired as Tony was after two nights without much sleep, and he hadn’t been able to nap much since that morning. The extra dose of painkillers he took at night helped calm him down a little; despite his lingering anxiety, he fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion around midnight. 

An hour later, he was woken by a crash of thunder. He nearly fell out of bed, and it took him way too long to figure out what was going on. All he knew for several minutes was that he was alone, it was loud, and he had way too much adrenaline coursing through him. 

“Peter,” FRIDAY said. Peter had the feeling she’d said his name several times. “Peter.”

“Yeah,” he managed. “Yeah. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

“Your blood pressure and heart rate are both well above your baselines, and you are running a fever of over a hundred and one. My protocols indicate that I must wake Mr. Stark.”

“ _No_ ,” Peter said frantically. “No, no, no, he really needs a good night’s sleep. Unless...” Peter swallowed. “Is he awake already?” The thunder had been _loud_ , and probably even louder upstairs than it had been down here. 

“Mr. Stark’s biometric data indicate that he is asleep.”

“Then _please_ don’t wake him up,” Peter begged.

“I’m sorry, Peter. Unless you have an override code, I will have to.”

“Shit,” Peter said, letting his head fall back land against the headboard. He was sure he’d heard Pepper use an override code before. What was it? _What was it?_

Morgan’s birthday. It was Morgan’s birthday, backwards. 

“Override, um.” It took Peter a moment to figure it out. “Nine-one-three-one-six-zero. Passphrase: ‘He doesn’t always know what’s good for him.’”

There was a beat of silence, and then FRIDAY said, “Override accepted. But I do believe Mr. Stark would want to know if you are suffering, Peter.”

“I’m not suffering,” Peter replied peevishly. “It’s just loud, that’s all.” He sat up, glancing anxiously toward the windows. It was so dark out –– no moonlight or starlight at all. The streetlight over the driveway kept flickering. 

Overriding FRIDAY’s protocols felt like a bit of pyrrhic victory. He’d gotten what he wanted, but the truth, if he was honest, was that he desperately wished Tony would come downstairs and check on him. He just didn’t want to have to be the one to wake him.

“Everything’s fine,” Peter said aloud. “You’re safe. The house is safe. FRIDAY would know if someone was on the property.”

“I would, Peter,” FRIDAY assured him. “There is no one here but you and Mr. Stark.”

Peter bit his lip. He knew that FRIDAY was the best security money couldn’t buy. The house was just so isolated. Mostly, that made Peter feel safe. Tony had put a lot of effort into making sure that no one knew he and Pepper lived here, which made it a refuge for Peter now, too. But the Green Goblin was different. He was the smartest enemy that Peter had ever faced, and he had allies in high places. If he wanted to know where Tony lived, Peter didn’t think he’d have a hard time finding out. 

Peter shivered. Thunder rumbled, and the streetlight went out altogether. 

That was it. Peter swung his legs over the side of the bed, almost getting them tangled up in the covers. He grabbed his walker and managed to unfold it, then got to his feet. He hobbled as quickly as he could out of the bedroom and down the hall. He could camp out on the sofa until morning, he decided. 

It was even louder out in the living room, because of the enormous picture windows that faced the lake. There was too much noise for him to isolate any one sound. His plan no longer felt like a good one, and he could feel himself starting to breathe faster. His hip was already aching. 

They should have asked Sam or a nurse to come out from the compound for the night. Peter should have insisted, even if Tony hadn’t wanted to. He’d known it was a bad idea for them to be on their own, but Tony had been so stubborn about it, and Peter had wanted to think he was well enough to be alone at night without help. It all seemed really fucking stupid in retrospect. Peter could have cried from frustration.

In the end, he was forced to make a decision, because his legs were about to give out on him. After a brief survey of his options, he chose the closet next to the powder room, where Tony and Pepper kept linens, spare towels, and the vacuum cleaner. It was big –– basically a walk-in –– and didn’t have a window. It had an overhead light, too, so he wouldn’t be sitting in the dark. 

He could still hear the storm once he was in the closet with the door pulled shut, but it wasn’t nearly as loud. The only problem was that the only place to sit or lie down was the floor. Peter managed to lower himself down, almost without incident; he lost his balance and fell the last few inches, landing awkwardly on his bad hip. 

He stifled a cry of pain, but he couldn’t stop himself from tearing up. He lay awkwardly on the floor of the closet, afraid to move and risk making things worse. He could only pray he hadn’t just re-injured himself.

He finally caved into the panic attack that had been simmering away for twelve hours now, allowing himself to break down because he was in pain and scared and alone, and now he was stuck on the floor of a closet, which he was starting to think might not have been his best option after all. 

Bad decision. Bad decisions _all around._

“Peter,” FRIDAY said quietly, after some time had passed, “please allow me to wake Mr. Stark. I do not think he would like you to be on your own right now.”

“No,” Peter said, staring up at the ceiling. His heart was still beating too fast, but at least he’d managed to catch his breath. “No. I’m okay. I’m okay.”

FRIDAY didn’t answer. Peter didn’t blame her for not believing him. He didn’t even believe himself.

***

Tony’s head pounded as he climbed the stairs slowly. He crashed straight into bed, pulling Pepper’s pillow over to bury his face in. It smelled like her shampoo, and while almost everything made him nauseous, that didn’t. He’d worried that he’d have a hard time falling asleep, especially without Pepper beside him, but between the Imitrex and the sound of rain falling against the upstairs windows, he soon drifted off. 

The next time he woke, the rain had turned into a deluge, bringing with it a fair amount of wind. The branches of the oak tree that grew near the house was scraping along the window, which was probably what had woken Tony up. He rolled over to look at the bedside clock. It was 5:30. 

His head felt better, though still tender and mushy, like the migraine might come back if he wasn’t careful with himself. He knew he should go back to sleep for a few hours, but now that he was awake, he wanted to check on Peter. He got up, put on his robe, and shoved his feet into his slippers. 

Downstairs, the windows that looked out onto the lake were lashed with rain. Thunder rumbled distantly. Tony pulled his robe tighter around himself and headed down the hall. He eased the door to Peter’s room open, intending to stick his head in and make sure Peter was sleeping soundly before going back upstairs to get a few more hours himself. 

The bed was empty. 

Tony felt an immediate jolt of adrenaline. He shoved the door open the rest of the way, looking to see if Peter was on the floor or maybe in the adjoining bathroom. 

Both rooms were obviously empty. The walker was gone, too, which provided _some_ comfort. Wherever Peter was, he’d left the room on his own two feet.

“FRIDAY, where the hell is Peter?” Tony asked, trying to take a deep breath and calm his racing heart. 

“Peter is in the first floor linen closet,” FRIDAY replied. 

“What the –– _why_?”

“I cannot speculate as to his motivation,” FRIDAY said, “but he was experiencing severe emotional distress earlier.”

Tony rubbed a hand over his face. That almost made sense. If the storm had been loud for him, it would have been much louder for Peter, and one of the side effects of his painkillers tended to be that he struggled to filter out noise and other input. He wouldn’t wanted to hide himself away somewhere without a window, and the only room on the first floor that fit that description was the linen closet. “Why didn’t you wake me up?”

“Peter used an override code to prevent me from doing so.”

Tony swore. The kid was too smart for his own damn good sometimes.

The door to the closet was closed. Tony knocked once, then eased it open a couple inches. The light inside was on. “Pete, it’s me,” he said, not wanting to frighten the kid. “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Peter said in a small voice. 

Tony opened the door the rest of the way. Peter was lying on the floor next to his walker. He’d pulled a blanket down from the shelf above him, so at least he wasn’t freezing, but he was holding himself sort of awkwardly. Tony hoped he hadn’t reinjured himself.

“Aw, kid,” Tony said. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know,” Peter admitted. “My hip hurts. I can’t get up. I’m sorry, this was really dumb, it was just _so loud_ , and I —” He choked up. “I didn’t know what to do. I kept thinking that Gobbie could come back and between the storm and the dark, no one would even —”

“Hey, hey, Peter,” Tony said, crouching down beside him. “Shh. I’m so sorry. I should have stayed with you —”

“No, no, you needed to get some rest, you’d already made yourself sick taking care of me.”

Tony didn’t answer. Peter wasn’t wrong, but it was abundantly clear that it was Tony’s fault they were in this position anyway. If he hadn’t been so stubborn about calling Sam or asking a nurse to come out from the compound, Peter wouldn’t have been left on his own. 

But that was something they could argue about later, once Peter was no longer on the floor. “Let’s see if we can get you up,” Tony said, slipping his hands under Peter’s armpits. 

“Um.” Peter bit his lip. “I think I need the chair.”

 _Shit._ “Sure thing, kid,” Tony said, trying to keep the alarm out of his voice. He went to fetch the wheelchair they’d brought back from the compound with them, just in case. “FRIDAY, send Sam a message from me and ask him to give me a call as soon as he gets up,” he said quietly, while he was far enough away that Peter might not overhear him.

“Yes, boss.”

Getting Peter into the wheelchair was made easier by Tony’s vibranium arm, which could lift considerably more than Peter Parker weighed. Still, it was difficult in the small space, and Peter was obviously in more pain than he wanted to let on. 

Peter stayed quiet as Tony pushed him down the hall and helped him transfer back to his bed. Tony got Peter’s pillows into the right configuration to take some of the weight off his bad hip, and then doled out a painkiller for him to take with a sip of the lukewarm Gatorade next to his bed. 

“How’s your head?” Peter finally asked, sounding a little better. 

“Better.” Tony sat down on the bed and sighed. “I’m really sorry, Pete.”

“It wasn’t your fault you got a migraine.”

“No, but it was my fault I didn’t ask for help. How many times have I told you to ask for help when you need it — I mean, Jesus, I literally told you _just yesterday_ — and then when you need me to follow my own advice, I just...” Tony shook his head. “I just failed at it. Miserably. So I’m really sorry. We’ll get Sam and one of the nurses out here today.”

Peter bit his lip. “That sounds like a good idea.”

“My first in a while,” Tony said with a self-deprecating snort. Peter frowned at him, and Tony waved it off. “Kidding, I’m kidding. How are you doing? Are you comfortable?”

“Sort of,” Peter said. “Not sure I’m gonna get back to sleep. But you should —”

“Stop right there. If you think I’m gonna leave you on your own, you’re crazy.”

“The storm’s a little quieter now,” Peter said, glancing toward his window. “I think I’d be okay.”

“Yeah, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not willing to chance it. Mind if I grab the other side of the bed?”

Peter shook his head. Tony got a spare blanket down from the shelf in the closet and stretched out on the unoccupied half of the bed. “Before I forget,” Tony said, “FRIDAY, Peter isn’t allowed to override emergency codes. Only Pepper has that power.”

“Hey,” Peter protested around a yawn. “No fair.”

“Sure, kid. Take it up with me when I haven’t just had to pick your butt up off the floor of a closet.”

Peter grumbled. Tony closed his eyes, but it wasn’t until he heard Peter’s breathing even out that he was able to relax. He fell asleep between one breath and the next. 

***

“So let me get this straight,” Sam said, flipping a pancake at the griddle. “Rather then call me and ask for help — which you had to know I’d be happy to give —”

“Okay, okay, we don’t need a recap,” Tony said, glowering from where he sat at the kitchen table. “I know I was irrational. I was sleep deprived and stressed out. And migraine-ridden and zoned out on Imitrex part of the time.”

Sam hummed. “Doesn’t sound like there were a lot of fully functioning brain cells available all around.”

“Maybe not,” Tony said. “Look, it’s not... it’s not personal.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at him. “Didn’t think it was.”

“Well. Good.”

Sam flipped a pancake onto a plate and slid it across the table to Tony. “Eat up.”

“I’ll wait for Peter,” Tony said, glancing down the hallway. The nurse from the compound — Peter’s favorite, Jolene — was still back there with him, making sure he hadn’t reinjured himself. 

“It’s gonna get cold.”

“I’ll still wait,” Tony replied. Sam shrugged and poured more batter onto the griddle. 

It was only two or three minutes later that Peter’s door opened and Tony heard the very welcome sound of him laughing with Jolene. He was alarmed, though, when he realized Jolene was pushing Peter down the hall in the wheelchair. 

“Don’t get all worked up, Papa Bear,” Jolene told Tony before he could say a word. “We’re just going to give things a bit of a rest for a day or two. Peter was lucky and just strained a couple of ligaments.”

That didn’t seem all that lucky to Tony, but Peter definitely looked better than he had that morning, hungrily eyeing the plate in front of Tony until Tony pushed it over to him. 

Jolene agreed to stay for pancakes before heading back to the compound. Sam brought over a stack of pancakes and a plate of bacon, and the four of them sat down together. 

It was only with other people around that Tony realized just how stressed out he and Peter had both been for the last twenty-four hours. It had seemed vitally important that Tony be the one to take care of Peter — maybe just to prove he still could. He’d hadn’t been the one to rescue him, after all. He hadn't even been in the city when it had happened. He’d felt sidelined and useless. And that feeling of helplessness had clouded his judgment.

After breakfast, Jolene drove back to the compound with a promise to come back in two days to check on Peter. Sam stayed, but he went outside — ostensibly to check on Gerald, but Tony suspected that was an excuse to give him and Peter some time alone. Before he left, he made sure that Peter and Tony were both situated on the sofa with a cup of coffee for Tony, Gatorade and a bowl of popcorn for Peter. 

“See, it’s not so bad, having someone else around,” Peter said, once Sam had gone outside.

“It’s not,” Tony said begrudgingly. 

Peter was quiet for a moment. “Uh, is this... is this a Steve thing? Because Sam was his friend first?”

“No,” Tony said, and then paused, forcing himself to reflect. “Well. Maybe. I might’ve called Bruce yesterday if he’d been available. But mostly this was just a me thing. I didn’t want to admit I couldn’t handle being your primary caregiver, because you’re my kid and I hated not being able to help you when you were being hurt by that asshole. If I couldn’t be the one to haul you out of there, at least I could be the one to help you recover. And then you got even more hurt because I was so fucking stubborn.”

“Oh,” Peter said. “If it helps, I’m not mad at you about it.”

“That makes it worse, somehow,” Tony muttered, slumping further into the sofa. 

“Hmm.” Peter paused, as though thinking about it, and then offered him the bowl in his lap. “Popcorn?”

“That’s all you have to say?” Tony asked, even as he took a handful of popcorn. 

“I dunno. I’m pretty tired. And I’m just not mad at you. You’re always telling me to learn from my mistakes and not beat myself up, right?”

“I think we’ve established that I’m pretty bad at taking my own advice. And on that note,” Tony added sternly, “you really should have woken me up. You could have gotten hurt.”

“How about this,” Peter said. “If I promise to wake you up next time, will you stop blaming yourself?” 

Tony opened his mouth, shut it, then opened it again. “I promise to try.”

“Okay. Then so do I.” 

It was obvious that Peter didn’t really mean it, but Tony could recognize that he wasn’t exactly occupying the moral high ground at the moment. And he’s already taken away Peter’s ability to override FRIDAY’s protocols, which meant that even if Peter didn’t wake him up, FRIDAY would. “Okay,” he conceded. 

Peter smiled, only a little smugly, and leaned into Tony’s shoulder as he grabbed the remote. “Awesome. Now, a very important question. Fiction or nonfiction?”

Tony paused, considering. “Fiction," he finally said. "TV or movie?”

“TV,” Peter said. “Comedy or drama?”

“Comedy. _Good Place_ or _Community_?”

“ _Good Place_ ,” Peter said decisively. 

“Trolley episode?”

“Yes!” Peter started scrolling through the streaming offerings, looking for the _The Good Place._ He found the right episode and settled into Tony’s side, resting his head against Tony’s shoulder. 

Tony couldn’t help but feel a little... dissatisfied. He wasn’t convinced that Peter had learned anything from this. But then again, he thought, only slightly begrudging, maybe the lesson hadn’t been Peter’s to learn.

He tightened his arm around Peter’s shoulders, pulling him closer, and rested his cheek on top of his head. Peter sighed contentedly. 

“Hey, kid?” Tony said after a moment. 

“Yeah?”

“You gonna call your friends today?”

There was a single, missed beat. “Yeah,” Peter said. “In a little bit.”

“Good,” Tony said, and smiled to himself.

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> Next up: car accident / memory loss.


End file.
